


Say That You've Won

by Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)



Series: Charlie Verse! [10]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 02:04:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7021282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/pseuds/Goodluckdetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even after the war ended, Hargrove’s influence has not been forgotten on Chorus. Pirates still linger. In a small refugee village, one hundred and seventy five people die at the hands of a war long forgotten.</p><p>One lives.</p><p>Lauren Grif and a legacy of being the last man standing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say That You've Won

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure if I like this one. Took me a ton of edits. We'll see. 
> 
> I want to make it clear I am not blaming the people mentioned here for what happened to them. I am trying to showcase the political climate of Chorus post war. But if it comes off as the former, let me know.

_A little girl escaped the the woods one day and took a nap among the trees._

_Let herself be lulled to sleep by the finger shaped leaves_

* * *

 

If it wasn’t for her obsession with the news, Lauren would have never noticed it.

It was routine at this point of her life, pulling out her tablet during first period and scrolling through the news when she thought her teacher wasn’t watching. She’d been at it since age ten and four years later, her morning routine was still as strong as ever. She started with the universe news when she ate breakfast in the morning, then the star belt news while waiting for classes to start, and as her teacher began to start with announcements, she was on the planet’s news, making her way towards local, a little ahead of schedule. Aunt Kimball was in the news again, gossip magazines mostly, and she skipped past them, frowning. She could report on Aunt Kimball’s and Aunt Carolina’s relationship better than any of the reporters. Charlie, after all, has given her deets.

“They kiss a lot,” was what she had said. “It’s somewhat gross. And somewhat sweet. But mostly gross.”

After years of coming home to find her father’s tangled on the couch making out like teenagers, Lauren could relate.

The teacher started on the topic of local flora and fauna, and Lauren turned to other news, trying to distract herself from another lecture about the dangers of sting-weed. The news she had now was more business related, nothing incredibly interesting and she went to click onto the next page when her eye caught the small picture in the right hand corner.

It wasn’t that noticeable really. More a picture to fill space than anything else. Just a picture of a pile of minerals from one of the local mines. But the background troubled her. She blew it up to get a better look.  

A few houses, shacks really, mostly deserted. Trees with leaves she remembered from when she was a girl, thin leaves, that had always reminded her like fingers, stretching out towards the sky. And right there in the corner, a broken string from a swing that was made out of a wooden board and she knew it because that rope was woven from multicolored strands of fabric and-

“Lauren-” Lauren looked up. The teacher was looking at her, her stylus tucked behind her ear. The board glimmered in the background with the local flora and fauna displayed over it. “Are you alright?”

It was in that moment Lauren realized she was breathing like she just ran a mile.

“Yes,” Lauren said, trying to force a smile but it wouldn’t come because she knew that shack, she knew those trees, she knew that rope because she helped make it when she was four with small hands. She bit her lower lip, and looked down at the tablet, skimming the article. A local mine. New minerals found. The location claimed to be a deeper mine from the large on in the West.

The trees in that photograph did not grow West. Lauren knew this because the information on the board said so. Her flora and fauna loving teacher could verify it.

Lauren also knew this because throughout her various travels with her family, her time hanging out on vacation and exploring, she had never seen the trees in that photo since she was five and the sky rained fire.

The tablet shook. No, her hands shook. Lauren felt her breath come a little quick. Not now. Not now. Not now. She hadn’t had one in years-

The anxiety attack didn’t seem to care, coming on at full force. So she did what she could. Tucked her tablet in her desk. Said something quick to the teacher about using the bathroom as an emergency. Sprinted out of there, avoiding the stares. And booked it straight to the bathroom to close herself in a stall, lean back against the wall and sink to the floor.

She didn’t puke, but her stomach made her feel like she might. She curled her knees to her chest. Rested her forehead to her knees. Took deep breaths as well as she could and used an old mantra Aunt Grey and her doctor taught her when she was six and these attacks came monthly.

“New York. Texas. South Carolina. North Carolina. Wyoming-”

It can’t be, she thought when the panic had settled down and she felt like she could breathe again. The area where she used to live was government protected. If they wanted to mine it, they would have had to taken it to courts. Lauren would have heard. She would have known.

If it was legal, I would have known, she thought, body stilling. If whoever was mining used the proper channels, she would have known. But if they didn’t….

Lauren shook a little, this time not of fear. Something more bitter curls in her gut. She gritted her teeth. Part of her wanted to say no one would dare, that even the most evil of corporations wouldn’t touch the site of a recent massacre for a quick buck.

The part of her that was Chorus born and raised knew better.

The cold tile of bathroom wall helped center her a little. Put her back in the school, in the present. She needed to talk to someone about this, she realized. Bring it up to authorities. Tell her parents. But yet-

What if she was wrong? What if she was just seeing ghosts that weren’t there, placing blame where there was no blame to be placed? What if she started a hunt for a monster that didn’t exist? She couldn’t do that. Make a bunch of soldiers set out on a quest on the hunch of a thirteen year old. She needed to know she was right first. That she was making the right call. And that would-

The plan appeared in front of her at once, and Lauren’s stomach sank. She couldn’t. It’d be a ridiculous idea to. Even if she could think of an excuse, even if she could grab a bus to the nearest settlement, she’d still have to walk miles to the site. It wouldn’t be easy.

And yet-

You’d only have to go for a minute. Just see with your own eyes, she thought. It’d only take a moment.

The thought was enough to get her moving.

Lauren got off the bathroom floor. Stepped out of the bathroom. Walked back into her classroom and gave her teacher an excuse about the flu. Sat down and snuck back out her tablet.

She went to the website for the local bus line. Bought a ticket down towards one of the Southern cities of Chrous, a three hour drive from her home. Then after a second of thought, bought another.

She spent the rest of the class remembering the smell of smoke as a village burned.

* * *

 

When Lauren was three, she was placed in her third foster home.

There weren’t many on Chorus, not many people willing to take in the few orphans left. With so many of Chorus’ residents no older than teenagers themselves, finding a place responsible enough to take them took months. Lauren didn’t remember the time in flux well, her younger years a patchwork quilt of memories. Loud noises. Crowded homes. Rations. Clothing second-hand.

Then trees with leaves like fingers.

“It’s a new colony,” the woman who was her social worker had told her. “They’re willing to take in kids like you.”

That was the official line for a little girl unable to understand the big picture. What her counselor meant was this “it’s a new colony of Fed refugees who will feel responsible for you because your parents saved their lives more than you can count, and placing you with a New family risks resentment due to the fact your parents likely caused many of their friend’s deaths. Also, by colony, I mean a loose village by Feds who keep traveling farther and farther East to escape the government they see as New controlled and biased.”

Lauren prefered the official line. It made her childhood less complicated than it needs to be.

The village was cramped, as far as Lauren remembered. Surrounded by forest, it gave off the impression of being closed in. Lauren wasn’t the only child in the place, not by a longshot, but she was perhaps the most troublesome, insisting on exploring the forest outside.

“It’s not safe,”  her foster mother told her time and time again. She was taking care of ten other children and often had little patience for the toddler who enjoyed making her life difficult. “Monsters live in those woods.”

She was not wrong.

* * *

 

_She wore no red clock, she carried no basket of bread,_

_There was no wolf that lingered, that hungered for her head._

* * *

 

“I need you to lie to my parents.”

It wasn’t the best opening line Lauren had ever used, that she’ll admit. But it got Charlie’s attention.

“Excuse me?”

They were walking home from school, as they did every day. Charlie got out before Lauren because she was still in middle school, and as a result, she was already waiting for Lauren across the street when Lauren’s last class let out. The walk to their row of houses wasn’t far, at least not far enough to make taking a bus efficient, and when they were far enough from the school so other schoolchildren were gone, but not close enough to their houses to risk a family run-in, Lauren brought up her plan.

“I need you to lie to my parents. And yours. Not Locus, I mean don’t tell him, but like you only have to directly lie to Aunt Carolina, and our Uncles.”

Charlie’s mandibles curled in. A sign of unease. She adjusted the pink bag over her shoulder. “What is this lie?”

“We’re going to hang out at Julia’s place this Saturday.”

“Julia hates us.”

“Thus the lie.”

Charlie stared at her for a long moment and Lauren relented, letting out a deep breath. “I need to see something. In person. But it’s a three hour bus ride plus an hour walk. So I need an excuse. And my parents won’t believe just my word on it unless I have a verifying source.”

“And I’m a verifying source?”

“They trust your judgement. And they think you’re too of a goody two shoes to lie.” It was something Lauren was honestly of sometimes. Rarely did anyone catch Charlie in a lie, when she committed to it. She had a way of conveying “trustworthy” that Lauren lacked.

That was perhaps because Charlie never accidently blew up the garage lab or broke into abandoned buildings, but Lauren was still jealous none the less.

Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you need to lie to them? About this road trip?”

“It’s important.”

Not a good enough answer.  Lauren couldn’t blaming her for wanting something more concrete; lying to Aunt Carolina was a high order. “Why?”

Lauren thought about it for a second. Part of her wanted to give the reasons she told herself about in the bathroom, the reasons that involved false alarms and her own neuroses. But that would be a half truth. And Charlie deserved better than that from her.

“Because they wouldn’t want me to go. And I have to see this myself.” Charlie was still staring at her so Lauren took a deep breath. “It has to do with where I grew up. Before Grif and Simmons.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. Lauren knew why; she’d never told Charlie anything about what happened to her before being picked up by Grif and Simmons. When she was a little kid, it was because she didn’t want to talk about it at all. As she got older and able to process it better, the reasons changed. Now, while painful, she could put the events that happened into words. That she could do. What she couldn’t do was watch Charlie, her best friend, the only person her age who had her back 100 percent, see her as fragile. As someone to be pitied.

Being the sole survivor of a massacre often caused that reaction.

“I have to see it myself,” Lauren said, voice low. “And if I tell them, they won’t let me near the place. Not without weeks of seeing a doctor and talking about it and I don’t want to-”

“Okay.”

“What?”  
  


“I’ll do it.” Charlie looked down at her, brown eyes trusting. “If it means a lot to you.” There was a moment of silence. “It won’t be dangerous, right?”  
  
Lauren shook her head. “No. I’m just gonna need a look. It’ll take only a second.”

“Girls!” Both Charlie and Lauren looked up to find Sarge standing in the distance. “Why you walking with the pace of a Blue? Red team doesn’t meander!”

“I’m not a Red,” Charlie grumbled, but she picked up the pace anyway. Lauren watched her as she went, taking a deep breath. Things would be fine. It would be a quick trip.

“Lauren!”

Things would be absolutely fine.

She was wrong.

* * *

 

Lauren remembered the day they found the cave.

She didn’t remember the exact details, not to the letter. Instead there were only glimpses of scenes she’d once say, flashes of memory. A large group of people coming back from the forest. Bags made of tarp over their shoulders. A crowd gathering. Whispers among the crowd. That same group of people walking into the square and lifting an item from the bag, something shiny, minerals. Jewels. Gems. Objects that looked like nothing Lauren had ever seen. Then, from another bag, by itself, something else. Not a gem. Not a jewel. Not coal.

A helmet. A helmet that set the entire crowd, minus the younger children silent.

Lauren caught only snippets of the argument that followed. Something about “danger” then “they could still be out there” followed by “or they could be dead.” Yelling. About a war she’d been a baby for. About the Capital the village had moved so far away from. About mining, and riches, and “a political foothold with an economy they can’t touch if we don’t allow the army here.”

She asked about it, later that night. What the helmet meant. The woman who’d been watching her had been silent for most of the argument earlier in the day and when she looked down at Lauren, Lauren didn’t miss the tension in her eyes.

“They’re bad guys. Who lived here once. People are worried they still might.”

“Are they right?”

Lauren could remember the look of the woman who watched her that day when she answered that question. For the rest of her life she’d wonder what she’d been thinking in that moment. If staying in a place once inhabited by pirates was a risk that no amount of riches could fix. If she thought the idea of refusing army protection from the News lead government was a smart political move or a game in paranoia. If setting up mining equipment, real equipment, to get the extra coal and jewels that possibly linger under the town, would attract attention none of them wanted.

If they knew people would blame them, if things went wrong, when the only people to truly blame were the Pirates who held the guns and fired.

Lauren would never find her answers to those questions. But she would know what the woman wanted her to believe that night, as she tucked her into bed in the same room dozens of other children slept.

“Of course not. We’re safe here.”

One week later, the drill to dig into the mines would be made, government army protection refused, the sign of pirates hidden to convince the government no protection was required in the first place.

One month later, the town would be in flames.

* * *

 

_But in woods like these, dangers come not from paws._

_Instead they come from men, whose hands are shaped like claws._

* * *

 

Her parents bought the lie.

Charlie sold it well, to her credit. By the end of her explanation to Grif and Simmons, Lauren was almost convinced that they were actually going to Julia’s on Saturday. Even when Sarge questioned them on the walk home, their story just cemented, Charlie fell into the lie almost naturally.

“Her parents learned she was being mean to me, so they demanded she invite me to her party,” Charlie said. “I wasn’t going to go, but they said I could bring Lauren.” She looked up at Sarge, a sparkle in her eyes. “We’re going steal the cupcakes and run for it.”

Sarge grinned wide, holding up his hand for a high five. “Excellent plan. Bring me one.”

Lauren almost stumbled in mid step. Oh God, they were busted, they would have to buy cupcakes and-

“She likes the color Blue,” Charlie said, not missing a beat as Lauren floundered. Sometimes it scared Lauren, how effortlessly she fell into a lie. That kind of power could go far. “They’ll probably have blue frosting.”

“Dammit! Must know us Reds can’t eat the color blue. Foiled!” And the lie was sold.

They got on the bus easy enough the next day, walking up to the nearest station to take them into the city before transferring onto the one they needed. The driver looked at Charlie funny as she stepped on board, she was rather out of place among all the humans, but he didn’t seem to question their age.

The drive was long. They talked most of the time, watching videos on their tablet as they got closer and closer, sometimes humming along to the occasional song. On the third hour, they started to get into more rural areas, towns turning to farms, farms turning to forests. As the got deeper into the woods, Lauren watched as the leaves from the trees dragged against the windows. Thin, green leaves, with brown undersides. Leaves like fingers.

“Those are creepy,” Charlie said when they got off the bus, the last stop. The trees hung above them, right near the bus stop and Lauren reached up to grab a leaf. It crinkled under her thumb and forefinger.

“Yeah,” she said, turning it to look at the underside. Had the brown color always looked so red? “Yeah, they are.”

* * *

 

One month after the town found the mine, one month after Lauren’s guardian promised nothing could go wrong, Lauren escaped to the forest.

It was easy to do with the town being so crowded. Most of the other children were working together to make another rope swing, braiding some fabric together to support it. She was bad at braiding, not old enough to do it well enough to her satisfaction, so when her guardian’s back was turned, the crept into the forest.

Most of the other kids found it creepy, but Lauren never did, taking comfort in the greenery and moss. She made sure not to wander too far, keeping the village in sight as she wandered uphill. Within a few minutes, she’d made it to the top, breathing heavily from the effort.

She’d always wanted to visit the top of the hill, hearing from the older kids that there was a great tree to climb on located there. They hadn’t been lying. Right there on the top was a large tree, with a large base, branches sprawling out from the top to provide plenty of shade. In the side of the tree was a small indent, and when Lauren spotted it, a smile appeared on her face.

She sat down there, curling up under the shade. She meant to sit down for only a moment, she didn’t want the others to notice she was gone, but soon enough she was fast asleep. The last thing she could remember hearing was the sound of the wind shake the forest branches.

The gunfire she awoke to would echo in her ears for years to come.

* * *

 

_A little girl escaped to the woods one day, the forest her bed_

_And woke to find herself the last living among the dead_

* * *

 

Once they’d walked for over an hour, Lauren began to recognize things.

A tree they passed. A road made out of poorly laid bricks. A sign, long worn that had an arrow on it, pointing towards what had once been town.

“Are we close?” Charlie asked. Lauren just nodded.

Her stomach turned as they followed the path. The trees began to grow less dense. They passed a few stumps, and when Lauren noticed the bullet holes that linger in the wood, she felt a nauseous.

“Lauren,” Charlie said stopping, her eyes growing wide as she took in another tree, littered with cuts and clear bullet holes. Her body was as tense as a wire. “I thought you said this wasn’t going to be dangerous.”

“It isn’t,” Lauren said, her voice far away. “Those are old.”

Charlie stared at her. Lauren could almost see the pieces connecting in her brain, putting together Lauren’s hatred of guns, her reluctance to talk about this time, the scars in the Earth around them.

“Lauren. What happened here?”

Lauren didn’t answer, creeping forward. She was close now, she knew it, and as she walked through the underbrush, she tried to ignore the thumping of her heart. It would be the same. The exact same.

She pushed through the bushes. In front of her was a small house, worn down, but there. The strings from what was once a tire swing hung from the tree branches. The yard was still intact. She was wrong. They had kept it just the way it was, they hadn’t let people bury over the memories, they hadn’t let anyone forget. Oh thank God she was-

Her train of thought cut off at once as she smelled smoke. She turned her head. And right there, in front of her face, just inches to the right, she could see the entire town gone, replaced with nothing but steel piles, freshly overturned dirt, and ash. Spotlights hung from some of the rigs, keeping an eye on the site. The small houses and streets were gone, nothing remaining but the occasional brick. Even the trees, once shading the entire town, had been bulldozed.

It was gone. What was left of her town was gone. It was gone and-

“Lauren!”

She was yanked back at once by a large hand. Lauren almost let out a scream, but a hand clamped over her mouth before she could do so. She lifted her elbows to strike out behind her, but when she heard the voice speak again, she stopped.

“Lauren. Kid. It’s me.”

The hand lifted off her mouth. Lauren turned around. And was met face to face with one Dexter Grif.

“Dad?”

Charlie stood behind him, Simmons and Sarge next to her. She looked rather surprised herself, and down the path Charlie and Lauren has walked through, she could see their other uncles.

“What were you thinking? Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?”

Lauren’s gaze snapped back to Grif. He looked rather furious. For some reason, Lauren couldn’t concentrate on that.

“You didn’t buy the cupcake lie?”

Grif’s eyebrows rose. “Julie’s parents only bake vegan. I know you wouldn’t bother to steal any of that shit. I never have.” There was a small click in the background and Grif sighed. “Alright, lecture later. Now, we get out of here.”

“But-”

And that was when the sirens started.

Lauren didn’t have a chance to respond. Grif was already grabbing her hand and running back away from the town. Lauren looked up as she ran as well, taking in the ships coming out of the sky. The ships with police sirens.

“What’s going on?” Charlie was following Sarge, looking up at the sky as well. Sarge flat out laughed.

“You girls busted a criminal organization. That’s what’s happening.” He reached up to wipe at his eyes. “They grow up so fast, takin’ after their Grandpa!”

“They’re taking after all of us, you shit!” Uncle Tucker yelled from somewhere ahead. Almost fifteen minutes of running later, they were at the Warthogs, parked in the middle of the forest. Aunt Carolina waited inside.

“Charlie,” Aunt Carolina said, her voice ice. Given the way Charlie froze, Lauren felt a little bad for the lecture she was in for.

The cops came by ten minutes later, apparently given the tip to come by the rest of the gang. Apparently, when Grif realized Lauren’s lie was full of shit, he’d checked her tablet and put two and two together. Her parents were smart like that.

“Everything is gone,” Lauren said, after they had left. She was wrapped in a blanket her parents had brought, and yet she couldn’t stop shaking. Grif, who sat next to her, just put his arm around her shoulder. Pulled her into a hug.

“I’m sorry kid. I know.”

* * *

 

Over ten years ago, a group of pirates killed an entire village except one lone girl. The girl who arrived five minutes after the slaughter to find the town dead at her feet.

“You’re going to be just fine,” the soldier who found her first said, after she’d wandered miles from the village to the nearest town, her feet covered in blood. “You’re going to be okay.”

“What about everyone else?”

There was a pause.

“We won’t forget them.”

Over ten years later, watching the news report on how this could have happened, how they could have mined over a massacre site without being noticed, how they could have gotten away with it, Lauren saw the statement for what it truly was.

A lie.

* * *

 

A Post War Chorus Lullaby. Origins: UNKNOWN.  

_A little girl escaped the the woods one day and took a nap among the trees._

_Let herself be lulled to sleep by the finger shaped leaves._

_She wore no red clock, she carried no basket of bread,_

_There was no wolf that lingered, that hungered for her head._

_But in woods like these, dangers come not from paws._

_Instead they come from men, whose hands are shaped like claws._

_A little girl escaped to the woods one day, the forest her bed_

_And woke to find herself the last living among the dead_


End file.
